Where Heaven Is Home
by Shida
Summary: [Advent Children] Yazoo realizes he is the only one of his brothers left. His life suddenly has no meaning until he comes across a bar and orphanage named Seventh Heaven. Implied YazooTifa. ONESHOT


A/N: Frankly, I'm a bit annoyed at the attempt of writing anything SHMxanyone since that idea is being generally used to recopy the dialogue in Advent Children and butcher the already nice and simple story line. I know my idea is whacked itself anyway but it's always fun to speculate—that is, without the copying and butchering.

Summary: As orphans, Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo are constantly seeking out for the mother Jenova. However, fate allows two unlikely people to meet in the midst of rest and turmoil.

**City Lights**

It was an odd night for Tifa Lockheart to run the bar and the orphanage by herself. It was not as if Cloud left this often but he promised to make one last trip to the City of the Ancients to pay his last respects to Aerith.

Tifa refused to go, not because she did not care about her friend—she adored Aerith dearly. However, she had not told Cloud that she had already went by herself to pay her final respects to the last Cetran. That was a moment she felt should be shared between her and Aerith, no matter how much Tifa trusted Cloud.

She agreed and promised him as well she would wait for him as always. He would come back. The only reason he would never come back is because of his overbearing selflessness. Tifa smiled to that thought and was about to close the bar for the night. It was already past eleven...which was later than usual. The lights were becoming dimmer but that wasn't anyone's fault. ShinRa was doing their best to rebuild what was left.

When the doors opened, Tifa was tempted to glare. She was planning to close the bar that instant. Marlene and Denzel were already asleep, sleeping earlier than usual, which left her alone with the last customer. Hopefully this one would be her last.

She gave a welcoming smile as best as she could and headed to the door to flip the sign, 'CLOSED'.

The last customer was a mystery, she thought, but nowhere near threatening. After all, she had been through more threats than she could count with her fingers. Sephiroth, ShinRa, Sector 7, Jenova, Lifestream, Cloud, people with silver hair, a giant winged monster...does it really matter that she could not see the customer's face after something like Sephiroth?

"How may I help you?" she smiled the best she could for the day had wore away most of her energy.

"No one's home?" It was a man's voice.

It was starting to irritate her. She could not see his face and no man she knew dared to ask if she was home alone. Often, her male customers would joke innocently to the new, brash male customer that 'the woman can kick your ass' if he even thought to harasse her. 'Who says so?' the new regular customer would ask. 'So says Cloud Strife.'

Of course, they stretched her reputation just a little. They admired her like a simple, sweet bartender but were entirely aware of who was in charge. If anyone touched her, it was often joked as well, that either she herself or even worse—the man, Cloud, himself—would leave pain that your grandchildren would feel.

"No one's home," the man whispered. Tifa had a feeling he was smiling. It was nothing she could not handle.

"Please have a seat," she replied politely. He stood only several inches above her but his presence did not seem to add up. "Sir." The moment she turned away, she saw one detail in the dim light—the most important detail that dragged her through every memory of suffering and pain she ever went through. Tifa felt her stomach drop but she held herself defensively. "What are you doing here?" That moment she felt futile and defenseless although everyone around her knew she did not need any weapon to defend herself.

"What are you doing here?" she asked again. Her thoughts raced with questions—will the children be alright if I die right now? Who is going to help Cloud? I saw Sephiroth die. I saw Sephiroth die so why is he here right now? Should I warn Barret and the others instead? Should I grab the children and run?

"It's too late for that sort of question," he pulled his hood away. Tifa felt her stomach lurch then emitted a feeling of a cold collapse. It was not Sephiroth...but it probably was. "Water would be fine."

He looks like that man, she thought, the man who took Marlene away, the one who I fought in the church long ago. Tifa stepped back cautiously, not ever taking her eyes off of him. He was certainly beautiful but in a vulgar way.

The man took his time as he settled down at the bar, which separated the dining area from the kitchen. "Don't bother poisoning the drink. Well...you could if you wanted to but it won't do anything to me."

Tifa didn't say a word. She did not have any poison anyway.

"Who are you?" Tifa asked patiently. She did her best not to glare or provoke him. She remembered exactly what Sephiroth and Loz did; Tifa refused to allow herself to fall under a third strike of losing everything that was valuable to her.

"If no one knows who I am, does that make me nonexistent...even if I exist?"

Tifa was startled. "What do you mean?"

"I exist because you remember me."

Not really, Tifa thought. She clearly remembered Loz and Sephiroth. If this man was one of those who brought Sephiroth back to life, it was only because of the reunion Sephiroth often blabbered about but could not manage to do.

Her voice became to subside. "What do you want?" she asked, and for the first time, she thought she had seen what Sephiroth was once possibly like—the moments where he emerged from the mansion with a lost look on his face. Those moments occurred only two days before the Nibelheim she knew was gone.

"Mother," he whispered resting his head against the arms upon the cold bar surface. He was a tired child who struggled for a fight but ultimately needed some rest in the end.

A mother, just like Loz, she recalled.

She grabbed a stool and sat across from him. What would Aerith have done?

"You remind me of Mother."

She was nowhere near as strong as Aerith for she felt her heart rip into pieces. It was very likely this man never even remembered the voice, face, and touch of his mother. His eyes were empty and he was desperately placing a label of mother to the first person—the first woman who would show the slightest trace of compassion toward him. It was ironic. After all, she hardly remembered her own mother herself.

Tifa thought of Aerith that moment and felt a foreign spirit place her hand against his resting head. "You're always welcomed here anytime."

He lifted his head to her response and kissed her hand gently. It felt almost like a simple brush of motion but the meaning was powerful. The man didn't say another word and left the bar, pulling his hood over his head as he left. The lights of the streets appeared to be brighter than usual.


End file.
